


The Winds of Change (ASOIAF SI)

by greysider



Series: A Song of Reformation [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Self-Insert, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-06 13:52:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15196154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greysider/pseuds/greysider
Summary: The forces of the winter prepare for the Second Long Night in the North, the Targaryen exiles plot their revenge in the East, and in King's Landing, a young prince by the name of Alexander intends to reshape the world in his image. All the while, Westeros is in a state of unprecedented transformation. The Age of Reformation has begun, and the winds of change shall not be stopped.





	1. Introduction

**The Age of Reformation**

_A Complete Account_

_Co-Written by_

_ArchMaesters of History Harion Cartwell, Jonas Wythers, Charlie Herston, and Kyllan Lanser_

 

_Year 165 C.E._

 

_A Prelude by_

_GrandMaester Ivarn Cafferen_

 

_The Age of Reformation was a period of history that most historians agree lasted from the year 23 B.C.E. to the year 140 C.E. It involved the drastic reshaping of the Westerosi politics, the end of the feudal system, and the development of the first modern trade economy. The “reformative period”, as it is sometimes called, also intersects by the “Decade of Enlightenment”, consisting of the first 10 years of the [Common Era]._

_This volume seeks to chronicle the massive changes undertaken during this age, and examine and explore the incentives and the historical events needed to produce such changes._

_The ‘Reformation’ itself has, to date, been cause to the most extensive and widespread changes to all levels of Westerosi society in chronicles history. Every tranche of society, from the most poor of smallfolk to the most privileged of the nobles, has seen their very livelihoods, professions, and place in life uterrely uprooted by the period. The simply monumentous shifts in the systems of economics, politics, religion, military, and culture are certainly deserving of being made distinct with their own timeline. The year “0” of the [Common Era] to be clear, is to mark clear the separation between the era of feudalism that existed for thousands of years and that of the modern age, of which there is no lack of identifying differences._

_In the chronicles and tomes that give sight into the countless centuries B.C.E., it is understood that significant manipulations to professions, statuses, and tranches occurred maybe only once a century. Events such as Aegon’s Landing in 309 B.C.E. which unified Westeros into one nominal state, the flight of the Rhoynar around 700 B.C.E. which populated the land of Dorne and established a detached culture to those to the north, and the death of the last dragon of House Targaryen in 237 B.C.E. which renewed the tradition of large military concentrations all served to define and shape the history of their respective fields._

_Even so, the feudalistic period maintained its supremacy up till its last years. No matter the changes described above, it was not until the very onset of the [Common Era] that it was ever considered that feudalism might actually be on the descend. The system had certainly morphed in the centuries prior, but its strength was never doubted up until the end. While systems could and would change inside the feudal order, it seemed as though the order itself was to live forever. The ‘Reformation’ proved this to be wrong._

_Events of supreme influence, normally reserved as a rarity in history, exploded in frequency during the ‘Reformation’. Where one field, such as that of the military, may have evolved slowly over the course of century in the times of feudalism, the C.E. forced it to adapt at intervals ranging in the decades, if not single years. Such mighty compression of change no doubt shook the very foundations of Westeros to the core, proven by the fact that their constantly changing norms led to a myriad of conflict and evolution._

_In every way, those professions, statuses, and tranches are unrelatable contrasted to their former counterparts. The creation of the first notion of ‘rights’, and the sovereignty of any institution or state, no least people, was nothing short of revolutionary for its time. The ‘Enlightenment’, or the freeing of knowledge from the hands of the old Order of Maesters allowed even the most illiterate and lowest rank of smallfolk access to information both past and present. The institution of elections, previously only in the context of a top-down structure, has turned the state into a instrument of the nation, and not the other way around. The invention of the cannons and rifles, apart from the forced emphasis of skill and tactics in battle, thrust the nobility from their stranglehold on armed conflict, yet another strike at their previous powers._

_Perhaps the most important revolution is that of ‘democracy’. Though it would be impossible to call the current iteration of the state a ‘democracy’, it must be acknowledged that the philosophy behind the political science is less than 200 years old. Indeed, the first transcribed ideas that resembled the modern philosophy can be found during the Age of Reformation._

_The very concept of smallfolk and non-nobles having a say in the actions of the state, as laid out in “From the Ground Up”, a popular manifesto published around 9 B.C.E., laid the platform for the expanded political doctrine that called for the dissolution of political privileges, equal representation under the law, and the ‘right’ to a vote for every citizen of Westeros. From the strict aristocracy of the feudal order, the influence of ‘democratic principles’ most heavily impacted the evolution of the state and the concept of the nation as a whole during the ‘Reformation’. Finally, this work addresses many of the controversial opinions of the famous Maester Samwell Tarly in his work “An Uncertain Course of Events”, written in the last years of his life and published posthumously in 51 C.E. In it, Maester Tarly argues that the end of the feudal system and its involved elements was by no means a certain fact. “Progress,” he wrote, “Was never guaranteed for the Westerosi people. We had to build it, block by block.”_

_Indeed, it has been the subject of debate for many decades if the Age of Reformation, as a time in history, was destined to unfold. Many sectors of popular culture, especially in more recent times, claims that the ‘Reformation’ was bound to happen regardless of the individual actions of certain characters. This is in addition to religious acertations of a path charted by God and those of politicians who claim the noble tradition. This theory has been called “Linear Progression”, or the belief that progress is eventual but certain to the human species. For sure, this theory has been a critical factor in the creation of the ‘Westerosi identity’, which one might remember is too a fairly recent development. The very idea of a populace being destined for something, in this case, the ascension from the poor landscape of feudalism._

_Yet, there is another side that argues that the ‘Reformation’ was a matter of complete circumstance; that unless a wide variety of events and peoples came together to do what they did, it might never had occurred, a theory which is inversely called “Circumstantial Civilization”. This theory directly contradicts the stated opinions of most major religious groups across the nation and is also seen negatively amongst most in power today. However, the argument does put much more weight behind the study of history and the particular study of individuals, the most popular of which may be His Lord Eminence, Alexander I._

_Alexander I, the first Westerosi head of state in the [Common Era], is no doubt at the center of the argument between “Linear Progression” and “Circumstantial “Civilization” He is also perhaps the figure most closely associated with the ‘Reformation’ itself, having a direct hand in the wars that gave birth to the period and the subsequent political and economic reforms which defined it. Little is known about the person of Alexander, though much of his public actions were extensively recorded. As such, it is difficult to ascertain the exact influence that His Eminence had. Nevertheless, he is key to the positions of both theories._

_Apart from examining in close detail the events both large and small of the ‘Reformation’ as well as the characters involved, it is also a case study into the individual that was Alexander I. Was he truly the wise leader that reshaped a nation in his image, or was he merely a coincidence of the time that should instead be confined to the footnotes of history?_


	2. The Great Houses of Westeros; 298 A.L.

** Genealogy of the Great Houses of Westeros **

****

_In the year 298 [AL]_

  

_Compiled by Archmaester Perestan_

Table of Contents

House BARATHEON

            of the Crownlands

            of the Stormlands

            of Dragonstone

House STARK           

House TULLY    

House ARRYN  

House LANNISTER

House TYRELL  
  
House MARTELL 

House GREYJOY

House TARGARYEN

         of King’s Landing

            in Essos

 

**HOUSE BARATHEON – _Ours is the Fury_**

**_The youngest of the Great Houses, born during the Wars of Conquest. Its founder, Orys Baratheon, was rumored to be Aegon the Dragon’s bastard brother. Orys rose through the ranks to become one of Aegon’s fiercest commanders. When he defeated and slew Argilac the Arrogant, the last Storm King, Aegon rewarded him with Argilac’s castle, lands, and daughter. Orys took the girl to bride, and adopted the banner, honors, and words of her line. The Baratheon sigil is a crowned stag, black, on a golden field. Their words are Ours is the Fury._ **

**of the Crownlands:**

Robert, _The Demon of the Trident_ ; Lord of King’s Landing and Lord Paramount of the Crownlands; King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men; King on the Iron Throne; Protector of the Realm; Head of House Baratheon; born in the year 262

  * Married to Queen Consort Cersei of the House Lannister, Queen on the Iron Throne 
    * Joffrey, Prince Heir to the Iron Throne, born in the year 282
    * Alexander, Prince Secundus of the Iron Throne, Lord Mayor of Duskendale; born in the year 283
    * Myrcella, Princess of the Iron Throne, born in the year 286
    * Tommen, Prince of the Iron Throne, born in the year 288



**of the Stormlands:**

Renly, Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands; Prince of the Realm; Warden of the South to the Iron Throne; born in the year 276 (unmarried)

 

**of Dragonstone:**

Stannis, _The Stalwart_ ; Lord of Dragonstone; Prince of the Realm; Master of Ships, Lord Admiral to the Iron Throne; born in the year 264

  * Married to Lady Selyse of the House Florent, Lady of Dragonstone 
    * Shireen, _The Disfigured_ ; Heir to Dragonstone, born in the year 287



 

**HOUSE STARK – _Winter is Coming_**

**_The Starks trace their descent from Brandon the Builder and the ancient Kings of Winter. For thousands of years they ruled from Winterfell as Kings in the North, until Torrhen Stark, the King Who Knelt, chose to swear fealty to Aegon the Dragon rather than give battle. Their blazon is a grey direwolf on an ice-white field. The Stark words are Winter Is Coming._ **

\- Eddard, _The Grey Wolf_ , Lord of Winterfell and Lord Paramount of the North; Magnar of the First Men; Warden of the North to the Iron Throne; Head of House Stark; born in the year 263

  * Married to Lady Catelyn of the House Tully, Lady of Winterfell 
    * Robert, Heir to Winterfell, born in the year 282
    * Sansa, born in the year 285
    * Arya, born in the year 287
    * Brandon, Heir Secundus, born in the year 289
    * Rickon, born in the year 292  


  * Jon Snow, acknowledged bastard, born in the year 282 (mother unknown)



Benjen, _The Lone Wolf_ , Black Brother and First Ranger of the Night’s Watch; born in the year 267

Brandon, _The Wilf Wolf_ , executed on the orders of King Aerys II in the year 280

Lyanna, _The Winter Rose_ , dead in the year 281

 

**HOUSE TULLY – _Family, Duty, Honor_**

**_The Tullys never reigned as kings, though they held rich lands and the great castle at Riverrun for a thousand years. When Harren the Black, Tyrant over the Riverlands and his line perished in the burning of Harrenhal, Aegon Targaryen rewarded House Tully by raising Lord Edmyn to dominion over the lands of the Trident and requiring the other river lords to swear him fealty. The Tully sigil is a leaping trout, silver, on a field of rippling blue and red. The Tully words are Family, Duty, Honor._ **

Hoster, _The Old_ ; Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Riverlands; High Lord of the Trident and the Marshes; Head of House Tully; born in the year 238

  * Married to Lady Minisa Whent (dead in 276) 
    * Catelyn, Lady of Winterfell, born in the year 265
    * Lysa, Lady of the Eyrie, born in the year 267
    * Edmure, Heir to Riverrun and the Lordship of Harrenhal, born in the year 273



Brynden, _The Blackfish_ ; Warden and Commander of the Bloody Gate of the Eyrie; born in the year 245

**HOUSE ARRYN – _As High as Honor_**

**_The Arryns are descended from the Kings of Mountain and Vale, one of the oldest and purest lines of Andal nobility. Their sigil is the moon-and-falcon, white, upon a sky-blue field. The Arryn words are As High As Honor._ **

Jon, _The Wise_ ; Lord of the Eyrie and Lord Paramount of the Vale; High Lord of the Passes; Hand of the King, Warden of the East, and Designated Regent to the Iron Throne; Head of House Arryn; born in the year 220

  * Married to Lady Lysa of the House Tully, Lady of the Eyrie 
    * Robin, _The Sick_ ; Heir to the Eyrie, born in the year 290



 Ronnel, dead in the year 262

  * Married to Lady Melanie of the House Belmore 
    * Elbert, executed by King Aerys II in the year 280



**HOUSE TYRELL – _Growing Strong_**

**_The Tyrells rose to power as stewards to the Kings of the Reach, and through the female line they claim descent from Garth Greenhand, gardener king of the First Men. When King Mern, last of the old line, perished on the Field of Fire, his steward Harlen Tyrell surrendered Highgarden to Aegon Targaryen, pledging fealty. Aegon granted him the castle and dominion over the Reach. The Tyrell sigil is a golden rose on a grass-green field. Their words are Growing Strong_ **

Mace, Lord of Highgarden and Lord Paramount of the Reach; Lord of Manderford; Lord Custodian of the Roseroad; High Lord of the Upper Mander; Head of House Tyrell, born in the year 256

  * Married to Lady Alerie of the House Hightower, Lady of Highgarden 
    * Willas, Heir to Highgarden, born in the year 275
    * Garlan, Heir Secundus, born in the year 277



\- Married to Leonette of the House Fossaway

  * Loras, born in the year 281
  * Margaery, born in the year 282



Olenna, _The Queen of Thorns_ , Lady Mother of Highgarden, Lady of House Redwyne; born in the year 231

Mina, married to Lord Paxter of the House Redwyne

Janna, married to Ser Jon of the House Fossaway

Garth, _The Gross_ , Lord Seneschal of Highgarden

Moryn, Lord of the City Watch of Oldtown

Gormon, Grandmaester to the Iron Throne

 

**HOUSE LANNISTER – _Hear Me Roar_**

**_The Lannisters are the blood of Andal adventurers who carved out a mighty kingdom in the western hills and valleys. Through the female line they claim descent from Lann the Clever, the legendary trickster of the Age of Heroes. The gold of Casterly Rock and the Golden Tooth has made them the wealthiest of the Great Houses. Their sigil is a golden lion upon a crimson field. The Lannister words are Hear Me Roar!_ **

Tywin, _The Great Lion_ , Lord of Casterly Rock and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands; Lord of Castamere; Lord Custodian of the Gold Road; Shield of Lannisport; Warden of the West to the Iron Throne; Head of House Lannister; born in the year 242

  * Married to Lady Joana of the House Lannister (dead 273) 
    * Jaime, _The Kingslayer_ , Kingsguard to King Robert I; born in the year 266
    * Cersei, Queen Consort of the Iron Throne, born in the year 266



\- Married to King Robert I of the House Baratheon

  * Tyrion, _The Imp_ , Heir Apparent to Casterly Rock; Master of Coin to the Iron Throne; born in the year 273



Kevan, Seneschal of Casterly Rock; born in the year 244

  * Married to Dorna of the House Swift 
    * Lancel, squire to King Robert I, born in the year 282
    * William, born in the year 285
    * Martyn, born in the year 285
    * Janei, born in the year 293



Genna, Lady to Casterly Rock; born in the year 245

  * Married to Emmon of the House Frey 
    * Cleos [Frey], born in the year 262
    * Lyonel [Frey], born in the year 265
    * Tion [Frey], born in the year 269



Tygett, dead 288

  * Married to Darlessa of the House Marbrand 
    * Tyrek, squire to King Robert I, born in the year 185



Gerion, _The Traveler_ ; dead 291

  * Joy, acknowledged bastard, born in the year 288



Stafford, Master-at-Arms of Casterly Rock; born in the year 251

  * Married to Myranda of the House Lefford 
    * Daven, born in the year 273
    * Cerenna, born in the year 279
    * Myrielle, born in the year 283



 

**HOUSE MARTELL – _Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken_**

**_Nymeria, the warrior queen of the Rhoyne, brought ten thousand ships to land in Dorne, the southernmost of the Seven Kingdoms, and took Lord Mors Martell to husband. Dorne, alone of the Seven Kingdoms, was never conquered by Aegon the Dragon. It was not permanently joined to the realm until two hundred years later, and then by marriage and treaty, not the sword. Peaceable King Daeron II succeeded where the warriors had failed by wedding the Dornish princess Myriah and giving his own sister in marriage to the reigning Prince of Dorne. The Martell banner is a red sun pierced by a golden spear. Their words are Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken._ **

Doran, _The Unbent_ ; Lord of Sunspear and Lord Paramount of Dorne; Prince of the Rhoynar; Head of House Martell; born in the year 248

  * Married to Mellario of Norvos, Lady of Sunspear 
    * Arianne, Princess Heir to Sunspear, born in the year 277
    * Quentyn, Prince Secundus to Sunspear, born in the year 281
    * Trystane, Prince of Sunspear, born in the year 286 



Oberyn, _The Red Viper_ , Prince of Dorne; born in the year 259

Elia, Princess of the Iron Throne and of Dorne, slain in the year 281

 

**HOUSE GREYJOY – _We Do Not Sow_**

**_The Greyjoys of Pyke claim descent from the Grey King of the Age of Heroes. Legend says the Grey King ruled not only the western isles but the sea itself, and took a mermaid to wife. The Iron Kings extended their rule far beyond the isles themselves, carving kingdoms out of the mainland with fire and sword. In later centuries, King Harren the Black of the Ironborn ruled all the lands between the mountains, from the Neck to the Blackwater Rush. When Harren and his sons perished in the fall of Harrenhal, Aegon Targaryen granted the riverlands to House Tully, and allowed the surviving lords of the Iron Islands to revive their ancient custom and choose who should have the primacy among them. They chose Lord Vickon Greyjoy of Pyke. The Greyjoy sigil is a golden kraken upon a black field. Their words are We Do Not Sow._ **

Balon, _The Broken Kracken_ ; Lord of Peak and Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands; Leader of the Ironborn; Chosen of the Drowned God; Head of House Greyjoy; born in the year 255

  * Married to Laddy Alannys of the House Harlaw 
    * Rodrick, _The Reaver_ , slain in the year 289
    * Maron, slain in the year 289
    * Asha, Heiress Apparent to the Lordship of Peak, born in the year 276
    * Theon, A Ward of House Stark, born in the year 279



Euron, _The Crow’s Eye_ , A Outlaw and Pirate; born in the year 260

Victarion; Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet; born in the year 262

Aeron, _Damphair_ , Chief Priest of the Drowned God; born in the year 263

 

**HOUSE TARGARYEN – _Fire and Blood_**

**_Aegon the Dragon’s ancestors escaped the Doom of Valyria and the chaos and slaughter that followed to settle on Dragonstone, a rocky island in the narrow sea. It was from there that Aegon and his sisters sailed to conquer the Seven Kingdoms. To preserve the blood royal and keep it pure, House Targaryen has often followed the Valyrian custom of wedding brother to sister. Aegon himself took both his sisters to wife, and fathered sons on each. The Targaryen banner is a three-headed dragon, red on black, the three heads representing Aegon and his sisters. The Targaryen words are Fire and Blood._ **

**of King’s Landing:**

Aerys, _The Mad King_ ; Lord of King’s Landing and Lord Paramount of the Crownlands; King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men; King on the Iron Throne; Head of House Targaryen; dead 281

  * Married to Queen Rhaella of the House Targaryen, Queen on the Iron Throne 
    * Rhaegar, Lord of Summerhall and Prince Heir to the Iron Throne; dead 281



\- Elia of the House Martell, Lady of Summerhall

  * Rhaeyns, dead 281
  * Aegon, dead 281



**in Essos:**

Viserys, _The Beggar Prince_ ; Prince of the House Targaryen; Self-styled “King Viserys III of the Seven Kingdoms”; born in the year 276

Daenerys, _The Stormborn_ ; Princess of the House Targaryen; born in the year 282

 

 


	3. The State of King Robert Baratheon I; 298 A.L.

** The State  **

**_of_ ** ****

**_Robert I of the House Baratheon, First of His Name_ **

****

_In the year 298 [AL]_

_Documented by the Keeper of the Records_

_The ‘State consists of two primary institutions._

_First of these is the [Small Council], its associated positions, and various under-offices, which handle to daily governance of the realm and the implementation of the King’s laws._

_The second are the various posts of authority that handle matters related to the King’s demesne, including but not limited to his household, wardenships, city watches, and mayorships._

 

  1. **The Small Council:**



 

The Hand of the King: Jon Arryn, Lord Paramount of the Vale

  * Captain of the Hand’s Guard: Vardis Egen
  * Stewardof the Hand: Thomas Cressey
  * Secretary of the Hand: Andus Wydman
  * Keeper of the Records: Simon Donniger



Grand Maester: Maester Gormon {Tyrell}

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Ser Barristan Selmy

  * Ser Jaime Lannister
  * Ser Arys Oakheart
  * Ser Mandon Moore
  * Ser Jorah Mormont
  * Ser Marwyn Belmore
  * Ser Balon Swann



Master of Coin: Tyrion Lannister

  * Harbormaster of King’s Landing: Tobias Gaunt 
    * Customs Sergeants: Harrion Cuy, Douglas Sentel, Jacob Carnor, Bradock Piler
  * King's Counter: Peytr Baelish
  * Tax Assessors: Alfred Toland, Seban Woodbury, Erac Cauldren, Clatton Fisher, Darin Barler
  * Keeper of the Keys: Clarton Hopper
  * Advisor on the Treasury: Duncan Stael
  * King's Scales: Peytr Baelish 




Master of Laws: Aemon Estermont, Lord of Greenstone

  * Justiciar: 
    * Rowan Sunglass (King’s Landing)
    * Jarmen Buckwell (Antlers)
    * Stephan Staunton (Rook’s Rest)
    * Justin Massey (Stonedance)
    * Christopher Manning (Duskendal)
    * Elwood Harte (Rosby)
  * High Marshal: Gilbert Farring 
    * Brus Buckler
    * Kennat
    * Trent
  * King’s Justice: Ser Ilyn Payne 
    * Chief Gaoler: Rennifer Longwaters 
      * Rudgen (under-gaoler)
      * Elden (under-gaoler)
      * Darrok (under-gaoler)
      * Seamas (under-gaoler)
      * Drylen (under-gaoler)
    * Lord Confessor: _None_



Master of Ships: Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone

  * Commissioner of the Fleet: Cameron Celtigar
  * Grand Admiral: Stannis Baratheon 
    * Commodore of Silver Squadron: Aurane Waters
    * Commodore of Black Squadron: Colton Fawker
    * Commodore of Yellow Squadron: Elias Pryor



Master of Whisperers: Varys

The High Septon: _unamed_ due to ceremonial reasons

 

Representative from the Princedom of Dorne: Ryon   Allyrion

Representative from the Reach: Willas Tyrell

Representative from the Stormlands: _None_

Representative from the Westerlands: _None_

Representative from the Iron Islands: _None_

Representative from the Riverlands: Karyl Vance

Representative from the Vale: _None_

Representative from the North: Marlon Manderly  

 

  1. **The King’s Demesne**


  * Steward:Leonard Hewitt 
    * Master of Games: Nestar Plumm
    * Master of Feasts: Gilbert Waker
  * Master of Horse: Dustin Pyne
  * Master-at-arms: Aron Stantagar
  * Royal Huntsman: Colren Meadows



Commander of the King’s Watch: Janos Slynt

    * Jacelyn Bywater (captain)
    * Triston Tally (captain)
    * Marcus Appleton (captain)
    * Brenden Flowers (captain)
    * Tristan Ryger (captain)
    * Officer of the Gates: Perkin Follard
      * Deputy of Dragon’s Gate: Melvin Woodfoot
      * Deputy of Iron Gate: Dylan Langward
      * Deputy of Lion Gate: Willym Green
      * Deputy of River Gate: Narman Kells
      * Deputy of Old Gate: _None_
      * Deputy of King’s Gate: Mateo Lolliston
      * Deputy of Gate of the Gods: _None_  



Warden of Crackclaw Point: Ormund Wylde

    * Dick Crabb (officer)
    * Hubard Rambton (officer) 



Warden of the Kingswood: Alesander Staedmont

  * Deputy Warden of the Kingswood: _None_



Lord Mayor of Duskendal: Alexander Baratheon, Prince of the Realm

  * Commander of the City Watch: Terrance Keys 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Eddard I

**EDDARD I**

  

**Late morning**

**20 th Day of the 1st Month; 298 A.L. **

**Winterfell**

**The North; Westeros**

Eddard Stark stood straight, his head held high and his eyes roaming around the expansive courtyard.

The pommel of the greatsword _Ice_ , crafted in the form of the Stark direwolf, lay comfortably in his rugged hands, the tip pointed downwards and facing outwards, ready for him to kneel before his overlord and friend. Eddard had done so many times before, but for some reason, a hint of apprehensive seemed to be present this time.

Robert had not deigned to come north ever since his coronation, and though it pained him to admit it, Eddard did not blame him. The North was a cold and dark place, where the gathering of food and the reinforcing of basic structures always took more attention than the tourneys and martial pursuits that were common to the south. The King, being the larger-than-life character that he was, embraced those pursuits with open arms, especially the other ‘pursuits’ that such a lifestyle would afford him.

Furthermore, the northern lord knew that his dear friend had his own host of troubles in the capital. Unlike in the North, where the threat of winter, wildlings, and southern influences more or less banded the competing interests together, there was no such moral unity in the rest of the realm. Lannisters, Tyrells, Martells and others all backstabbed and betrayed each other for what? Power? Influence? He knew himself that he would be lost in such a world of politics, and that was why he did not envy Robert’s position.

The last time he had seen the King, it had been at Riverrun, no, Pyke, where they had stood triumphant over the defeated Greyjoys, their rebellion having been crushed into the sea. It had been concerning at first to see that the lean man he once knew had put on at least two or three stone, but that could easily be put down to the stresses of rule. Men like Robert found their calling on the battlefield of war, not on the chair of peace, and so it made sense that he would let himself go a bit.

Now though, Eddard was anxious. He wouldn’t deny it.

It had been a little less than eight full years since he had seen his childhood companion, and decades since the Royal Family had come to Winterfell, let alone a single royal at that. Needless to say, the North had a contentious relationship with the “King in the South”, as they would forever deem them. The last major interaction they had with one was the act of supplanting and replacing him with another. Even then, though, Robert had immediately lost his credibility as a friend of the Lord of Winterfell, instead becoming just another nameless royal that lived down in the Red Keep.

Worse so was the fact that said royal was not coming north alone. With him marched his Lannister wife, a number of her relatives, more than two hundred minor nobles, their retinues, and more than a hundred civil servants of the King’s Court. Ever hesitant of the Lannisters and their dubious motivations, Ned had been, at one point, hesitant to welcome them into his home. His wife, Catelyn, had convinced him that such a move was beyond the pale and that, no matter how many reservations he had about their past behavior, he should play the role of the gracious host for now. To the surprise of non, he had promptly acquiesced.

All in all, there were around four hundred and sixty including the King, and their number would probably be increased by freeriders by the time they reached the gates of Winterfell. At the very least, he was glad that the whole court hadn’t decided to pack up and make their way north. He remembered learning that the courts of the old Targaryen Kings had always been very small, never exceeding a hundred of so courtiers and small nobles. This was more so as to not alienate any one faction of the nobility, a game which Eddard knew to be complex and evil at its core.

However, the Mad King, Aerys, had opened up the doors of the Red Keep to any and all who would come in the early days of his reign. Though the books all painted him as a monster, as they should, Luwin told him that the _mad_ King had started off quite _sane_ indeed, wanting to let down the walls to power and expand access to the royal family. In his later years, though, the large court had been a way for Aerys to play one rival off of another, each of them working for his favor.

When Robert had ascended to the throne, the traditions set by Aerys had continued, with hundreds of knights, barons, and minor lords flocking to the Red Keep every year. For Robert, of course, this meant more tourneys and celebrations, which only encouraged more to come and attend. As a result, there were no more people accompany a King on a trip than ever before in recorded history, and they were all riding on Winterfell with the expectation of a grand feast to match those in the south.

All of this didn’t mean that he was uninterested in all guests save his old friend. For one, he had never met the royal princes and princess. With the blood of Robert Baratheon, you could assume that they would all be equally as brash and confident as their father, but he had heard that, for some reason, they all sported the blonde hair and green eyes of the Lannisters. Was there more lion in them than stag?

Joffrey, the eldest, and the heir. Catelyn had once suggested a betrothal between him and their own eldest daughter, Sansa, years ago. Where once he would have been eager to complete such a proposition, he had not even met Joffrey, nor had he been in contact with Robert for many a year now. On the news that the Royal Family was traveling north, Catelyn had brought up the idea another time, and now he would have a chance to see the crown prince himself, and judge if he would be a worthy lord for his daughter. Maybe another great lord would have agreed on the spot just to secure a place in the royal succession, but Eddard was not like those other men, and he had long promised himself that he wouldn’t sell away his daughter for a political arrangement.

And then there was Alexander, the second son, born almost a perfect year after his elder. According to what he had read from Jon Arryn’s letters, the boy had been wild and confused in his youth, leading some to believe that he had been infected by a ‘sickness of the mind’. It was not to be though, as he turned out to be quite adept at his early lessons, and Eddard had heard many a traveling southern lord praising the young boy’s intellect and knowledge. It was said that he had in himself the makings of a great Maester, but clearly such a life was not in the interest of Alexander, for he had spent much of his youth traveling the breadth of the Seven Kingdoms, touring the lands and meeting all the interesting people he could. The only one of the Kingdoms that had escaped his travels was the North, but now it seemed that he would be able to complete his quest.

The two youngest, Tommen and Myrcella, he knew next to nothing about. They were described as cute and charming. He was not sure if they would be able to get along well with his own younger sons and daughter, especially Arya, but their arrival would at least give Eddard the chance to observe them as well as their older brothers.

Truly, with what felt like the might of the southern kingdoms bearing down upon Winterfell’s gates, including the King and his royal children, Eddard was determined not to disappoint. In honor of Robert’s arrival, he had spared no expense in preparing a great feast, a hunt, and sufficient accommodations for them all. The First Keep had been cleared of unnecessary guests and extensively refurbished in the past two weeks. Additional lodgments had been found in Wintertown by his steward, Poole, for the hundreds of other court members and freeriders who would no doubt deserve proper residences as well.

Cat had been in charge of the food preparations, and judging by her prior experience, he had no doubt that Robert would be pleased. As always, she had done well to procure all the specialties from throughout the kingdom.  Exotic spices from Manderly, cured meats from Glover, the finest lambs from Hornwood, fresh fish from Tallhart, amongst other things. It would be a feast to be remembered if he had anything to say about it.

Normally, the Stark family and household ate relatively little. The combination of a small retinue of guards and staff as well as a culture of temperate consumption meant that their needs were usually met by just half a dozen or so of the many farms on the outskirts of the city walls. Most of the rest, as far as he was aware, was either sold back to the farmers or traded at the open markets. However, the expected arrival of more than two hundred southern guests meant that six or seven of the many plots would not suffice.

As such, in the past week, cartloads of potatoes, carrots, barley, corn, and wheat had passed through the Wolf Gate of the castle. Almost every hour, it seemed, another peasant came wheeling their cart through the town, bringing with them a large assortment of produce indeed. At first, Eddard himself had been shocked by the sheer volume of food Winterfell’s own plots apparently could furnace. Though Poole told him they had had to cut down on the regular practice of selling food back to the peasants, it was also that new changes in farming technique that was to blame for the surpluses.

He remembered, some years back, when he had heard of something about modifying the planting schedule. Not knowing much about agriculture himself, Eddard had thought little of it, until now. Perhaps, when the feast was over and the guests were gone, he could look into it himself and try to understand just what exactly had been changed and why.

He had been too busy to inquire at the moment, because he had been adding his special touches to the plans for the night. In the armory behind the kitchens, he had directed Luwin to acquire some of those ‘fireworks’ that Robert seemed so fond of down south. To his understanding, they were a rather recent thing, but it is said that his friend had never been happier that to see them explode above King’s Landing for the first time on his return from the Greyjoy war. It had been difficult, but to his credit, Luwin had managed to buy an assortment of red and yellow ones from a merchant in Barrowtown. Even he had never seen the devices in action before, and he could think of no better time than reuniting with his old friend.

No matter how much the household had done to prepare for the King’s arrival, the castle was still running around at the last minute. One of the watchmen had spotted the King’s party, accompanied by Jory’s escort, under a half hour ride away, and Winterfell had been in a state of acute panic ever since.

Even as Eddard stood calmly, the sword resting in his hands and his personal guard in their positions around him, chaos swirled around him. There were guardsmen lining up in formation, checking their equipment and making sure their armor was polished and clean. Horses and husbandry animals were being cleared from the main yard, either to be locked up back in the cavalry barracks or brought through the kitchens.

Above him, a cool wind blew through the grounds. High above, the large banners of House Stark fluttered back and forth, the simple direwolf displayed for all to see. There was a certain pride in the knowledge that one’s ancestors, all far wiser and better rules than he, were looking down upon him. It was a heavy responsibility, for sure, but it was one that Eddard took one with appreciation, not greed. Let his ancestors look upon him proudly this day, for he would show all the nobility of the south how true and honest the northern hospitality was.

He returned his attention to the rest of the courtyard, observing as the rest of the household finally got itself orderly and the sounds of commotion slowly died down.

To the side, Cat was getting their children ready, fretting over Sansa’s green dress and wiping off a smudge of dirt from bottom of it. Robb, his pride and joy, as well as his heir, sent him a small chuckle, marveling around as soldiers and servants ran around trying to arrange themselves. Unlike himself, Robb had never been present for such a great feast, being as uncommon as they were in The North. Gently, he reached over and ruffled his son’s hair, laughing lightly all the while.

Behind him, Sansa yelped, causing Eddard to look over in concern until he saw that it was just his girl’s direwolf, Lady, which had surprised her from behind. Unlike Robb, it seemed like Sansa was having a bit more of a difficult time adjusting to her new companion. Direwolves were very active and energetic creatures, especially the young ones. Sansa, like his wife, was a more subdued presence, and the personality of lady and wolf were sure to clash. All was fine, he told himself, for he was confident Sansa would soon figure out how to handle the new responsibility. 

Rickon and Bran were playfully hitting each other at the end of the line, Sansa now trying to keep them separated from each other so as not to dirty their clothes. Bran, ever the knight, extended his arm like an invisible sword, pretending to take jabs at his younger brother like Cassel had taught him to. His smile slowly left his lips, however, as he noticed a few missing persons amongst his family.

His head swiveled around, trying to catch a sight of his youngest daughter. He groaned, lifting a hand to his forehead. He was about to turn around and ask Wyl to go and find her when he felt a small figure bump up against his leg and speed past him straight into Robb.

Arya was wearing a small grey dress and sporting a rather thick iron helmet, which Sansa was quick to snatch off her head and pass off to one of her attendants. Horrified, Catelyn pushed Arya next to her sister and set about correcting her posture as Robb chortled bemusedly at the whole thing.

She was giggling and squirming, seemingly unaware of everything going on around her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the nameless soldiers in grey armor try to hide a snigger at Arya’s mischief, but one hard look from Eddard and he returned to his prior posture.

Arya, well, whatever his dear wife did, he doubted it would ever tame the wolf within his little girl. Her love of swords, armor, riding, it all reminded him far too much of  . . .

He wiped a small tear from underneath his eye.

He took a deep breath, banishing away the painful memories of the past and refocusing himself back on his present family.

Wait.

Where was Jon?

Eddard looked over his children again, failing to find the boy hidden amongst them. He wasn’t with the guards as well, not with the other noble sons assembled on the far side of the yard. Nor was he standing with the servants, nor with the Wintertown banners.

Damn it, he thought. Jon should be here for this. He should see his father paying his proper respects to the King and, well, he should be seen as part of the family. Jon should be there, next to Robb, standing tall and proud like he did, clasping hands with the King and showing the world who he truly was.

Well, Eddard couldn’t go off and find him now. Everybody was in position, his wife and children ready for the ceremonies.

Resigned to Jon being absent for the occasion, he closed his eyes for a second and calmed himself. There would be plenty of other opportunities in the future, and he would remember to seek out the boy later tonight when he had a spare moment to himself.

Cautiously, he looked over to his wife, wondering if she would have noticed Jon’s absence.

No, she was too busy fixing up Sansa’s skirt. Truthfully, he didn’t expect her to, and hadn’t before, but maybe, for something as grand as this, she would have given a care?

It was probably this same attitude that scared Jon away. Why would he want to be in the front, displayed for the world to see with his family, when he was treated the way he was. Robb would have treated him as his own, Eddard knew that at least, but a mother’s love just couldn’t ever be replaced. Not that Catelyn would ever really . . .

At that, the sound of a horn froze all of his immediate thoughts.

Robert was here.

At once, the assorted heralds spread out amongst the walls picked up the royal tune and the whole courtyard was filled with the blasting sound of music.

Eddard flinched. Harrenhal had been the last place where he had heard such a tune, and Harrenhal was, without a doubt, the place that had at once crushed his innocence and crush his dreams for the future. He shook off these dangerous thoughts once more, because that’s what they were, dangerous, and they had no place in a day of celebration such as this one. For some reason, that day seemed to weigh on him more heavily than usual today, but Eddard would not fall into the trap of reminiscing about what could be. Not now.  

Looking around, the guardsmen and servants straightened themselves and tightened their most professional faces, all hoping no doubt to make the best impression possible on the royals.

Then, in front of them all, the four-foot-thick metal of the Wolf Gate lifted itself from the cold ground. They all knew that on the inside of the outer walls a team of at least a dozen watchmen were heaving hard on the wheel to open the gate, but the vision of the great grey beast rising from the cold ground was a powerful one to behold.

On the other side, the wide crowd of horses started at a slow trot, easily clearing the gate. The visitors poured through the castle gates in a river of red and gold, their polished steel glimmering in the reflection of the morning sun. Over four hundred strong, they made their way slowly into the expansive courtyard, the space somehow finding a way to hold the host of knights and court members. Looking through the group, the proud banners of the prancing stag were displayed prominently, a few other flags that Eddard couldn’t recognize arrayed in the background.

There were many familiar faces, and then many more than he could not recognize.

The Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister, was an easy first. His long blonde hair and cocky smile would identify him from a hill away, and the way he looked down on all those assembled to great them was another instant clue.

To his side must have been his brother, the imp. Tyrion was his name, Tywin’s third child, and Eddard vaguely recalled that he was now Master of Coin for the King. The man was certainly shorter than his brother, maybe only half his total height. His face though, was shaped the same as anyone else in the party, and at least he looked around the castle with obvious interest and amazement, a rare sign for a Lannister son.

The tall boy with the blonde hair, probably the crown prince, and his companion, the gruff man with burned skin scaring half of his face, must be the legendary Sandor Clegane, said to be the best non-knight fighter in the capital. Joffrey looked the quintessential Lannister, but on the other hand, he wore armor instead of robes, had Baratheon insignia painted all over them, and carried a large bastard sword which was hanging from his waist. 

His eyes narrowed as he thought he caught a sight of Jacelyn Bywater in the sea of faces. If that was truly him, he had last seen the knight at the Battle of the Trident, leading his house’s component of loyalist forces, where he had surrendered to Robert after the death of their leader.

There were a number of Stormlanders, as to be expected. In the forefront, Houses Horpe, Staedmon, Caron and Foote could be seen in attendance, along with many other minor knights whose names escaped Eddard’s memory.  On the other side he could make out a few Reachland knights, though he stood well to the side of the host, most likely wise to keep his distance from the stormlanders, of which there were many more.  

Finally, of course, the huge man at the head of the column, his black and yellow armor contrasting with the plain white of the two Kingsguard who flanked him, was Robert Baratheon, in the flesh. His grizzly mane and large blue eyes were the same as Eddard remembered them.

And yet, this man, the man he knew so well, had thought of so frequently in the past weeks, looked a stranger to his blind eye. He was large, godly so, and it seemed as though his black warhorse was just barely carrying its massive charge upright. This . . . this was not the Robert he once knew.

A blonde haired boy, a squire no doubt, brought up a wooden box next to the King’s horse, and Robert swung off the animal with an agility of a man far past his prime.

Nevertheless, he sported a massive grin on his great bearded face, and the next thing Eddard knew, the accumulation of all of his worries and anxieties stared him straight in the face.  

He blinked, silently cursing his own emotions.

His entire body had frozen up, his muscles unable to move and his lips unable to speak.

“Well?” Robert spoke, his voice struggling to hide the sheer rush of joy and excitement behind it.

Quickly, Eddard dropped to his knee, and he barely registered as four hundred men and women around the courtyard followed him onto the ground.

He followed the custom he had been taught so long ago, resting his forehead against the pommel of the Stark’s ancestral sword.

“My Lord,” he began, “Winterfell is y . . . “

“Oh get up,” Robert cut him off.

He blinked again, before a pair of strong arms literally lifted him from his kneeling position and wrapped around him in a tight embrace.

Though it was unseemly to be seen in such a way with the King, his lord, the part of his brain that saw the man in front of him as his childhood companion overpowered any sense of impropriety. This was the man Eddard had grown up, shared his fears and hopes with, and gone to war with. This was Robert, the joyful Stag that had shown him his place in the world when Eddard had felt abandoned and alone.

As he settled into the embrace, his more rational thoughts abandoning him, he felt, for just one moment, that everything was right with the world.

Perhaps the moment lasted for minutes, maybe hours, maybe seconds, but it was over all too soon, and then Robert’s blue eyes were right in front of him again.

“Gods be good Ned!” he bellowed, his voice the sole sound in the entire courtyard, “It’s been nine goddamn years! Where in the hell had you been?”

The northerner chuckled just a little, fond memories of Robert’s crass language returning to him.

“Here,” he said simply, “Guarding the North. Winterfell is yours as always, Your Grace.”

Robert laughed and waved him off.

“And what have we here,” he mused, turning his attention to Eddard’s children.

The King moved over to face his namesake, shaking his hand with a firm grip.

“So you must be Robb,” he affirmed, nodded all the while, “Always liked that name for some reason,”

Most of the people in close vicinity gave out a small chortle, the King’s fondness for humor apparently still alive and ever present.

He preceded to move down the line of the Stark children, making small compliments and jokes at each one of them, but Eddard had turned his attention away from Robert and back towards the crowd.

The Queen’s carriage, a large compartment with gold leaf covering much of it, came to a stop in front of the reception. The riders promptly dismounted and opened the door, allowing Cersei Lannister and her attendants to step out onto the cold dirt. She was wearing traditional southern robes, full with light colors and laced with gold ribbon. In such clothes, she would freeze if the North was in winter. Luckily for her, it was still summer, though Maester Luwin said that the end of it was just around the corner.

The Queen sniffed at the air, as if it was poisoned or filthy, then adopted the arrogant sneer on her face that was so common for her family members. Eddard would have scowled if it was but the two of them, but he knew that now was not the right time to do so.

Behind her, two small golden haired children emerged from the carriage, staying close to the Queen and holding onto her long robes.

Soon enough, Robert was done introducing himself to all of the Starks, and Cersei moved forwards, her movements like a lion slowly approaching a prey. She removed the white glove from her right hand and lay it before Eddard, who duly bent once more to kiss it lightly.

As soon as that ritual was completed, Robert took command of the crowd with his voice, calling his own children over for introductions.

Joffrey, with a perpetual scowl on his face, got down from his horse hesitantly and extended his hand to his father’s friend, who promptly grasped it. The boy gave a small smile at that, nodding his head in acknowledgment. Eddard did not quite know what to think of the boy so far. If he had been like Robert, he would have tried to rib his own hand out of his arm, but perhaps that wasn’t the characteristic he should be looking for.

Anyways, the crown prince quickly retreated back, allowing Tommen and Myrcella to approach one after the other and deliver their own greetings. Sweet they were indeed, their nervous smiles and careful handshakes reminding Eddard of his own children immediately. Now, there was only one more left . . .

“Alexander!” Robert shouted, “Where the hell are you, boy?”

There was total silence in the air for a moment, before a blonde haired youth Eddard had barely noticed before dropped down from his horse and fell into a deep bow.

“Right here, father,” he responded plainly, rising once more and walking over to where the rest of his family was standing.

Behind him, an unshaven dark haired man on horse, looking suspiciously like a sellswords, sniggered at the prince’s actions until another knight slammed his fist into the man’s chest, shutting him up.

As Alexander came closer, Eddard could now notice some subtle differences between him and his older brother by one year. Where Joffrey eyes were a dull and darker shade of green, Alexander’s were positively radiant, appearing more as an emerald color. His short hair was swept to the side rather than lined downwards, and he moved with poise and confidence, as opposed to hesitation and indecision.

Stepping past his family with barely a glance towards them, he seemed to dominate the entire mood.

When Eddard shook the boy hand, those sparkling green eyes stared straight into his own, and for a second, he thought the prince was gazing straight into his soul.

“Well met, Eddard Stark,” he said softly, “I hope to become acquainted with you in the days to come.”

His tone of voice, his soft spoken words, they were so different than the brittle speech of Robert, and yet no closer to the clean-cut words of his Lannister grandfather. Though, like both great men, it seemed he was able to take control of the presence with but a simple phrase.

“Indeed, my good prince,” was all Eddard could muster, his mind lost in thoughts over the return of his oldest friend and the mystery that was his second son.

Alas, he didn’t see Alexander tilt his head ever so slightly as he gazed upon the northern lord, a resigned and forlorn look crossing his face for just a second.


End file.
